


Make It Through

by lcvelace



Category: Degrassi, Degrassi: Next Class
Genre: Arguing, Bathrooms, Bipolar Disorder, Confrontations, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crying, Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Off-screen Relationship(s), On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Siblings, Step-siblings, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Touring, Undecided Relationship(s), Wakes & Funerals, refusal to take meds to be specific
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-10-28 22:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10840503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcvelace/pseuds/lcvelace
Summary: A collection of short stories ranging between around 500-2000 words.





	1. Lola, Shay, and Frankie

**Author's Note:**

> Shay and Frankie confront Lola about who the father was. 
> 
> Word count: 458

Lola had just come out of a toilet cubicle when Frankie and Shay cornered her.

"Who was the father?" Frankie blurted without prompting, causing Lola to freeze with her hands under the running water of the tap. 

"I told you, taking it to the grave," Lola mumbled, turning her purple head away from her friends. 

Shay sighed, "Lo, we know you said that. But we were talking about it, and we, uh, think we worked it out." 

"And I really need you to tell me we're wrong," Frankie interjected, staring at the back of her friend's head with wide, earnest eyes. 

"What if I refuse to answer?" she asked simply, drying off her hands and turning back to them, fringe falling in her eyes. 

"I think that'll be answer enough," Shay said gently, reaching out to touch Lola's elbow gently. 

"Was it my brother?" Frankie pushed, clearly not understanding the need to be delicate the same way Shay did. 

Lola's eye roll was almost convincing, "Don't be ridiculous, we both know Hunter is head over heels for Yael." 

"Don't bullshit me!" Frankie snapped, and Lola jumped, eyes widening as Shay half-stepped between them, "I mean Miles. I did the maths, okay. You got pregnant on or just after the night of our girls' night. You disappeared that night, and Miles is the only one who wasn't with other people all night. Was it Miles?" 

Lola was staring blankly at Frankie for a few moments before the tears started welling up in her eyes, "I-I, I'm sorry. I should've told you." 

"You weren't obligated to tell us anything," Shay interjected, wrapping her arms around Lola's shaking shoulders. Frankie took a step back, seeming shocked she'd snapped like that. 

"I thought he liked me, and maybe he almost did," she whispered into Shay's hair, "Almost is an ugly word." 

"I shouldn't have pushed," Frankie whispered, "I shouldn't have snapped." 

"No," Shay said as she hugged Lola close, "you shouldn't have." 

"I miss him," Lola blubbered, and the other two girls both broke their eye contact to stare at her, "but he's really not mine to miss, is he? He was never mine." 

Shay sighed and gently shifted Lola into Frankie's arms, the brunette looking taken aback by this, "Let's get out of here," she said as she picked up Lola's bag from where it was abandoned on the floor. 

Lola giggled through her tears, rolling her head to look at her, "Is Shay Powers suggesting skipping school?" 

"That she is," Shay smiled, taking one of Lola's hands and letting Frankie take hold of the other, "The Dot?" 

The other two nodded, and Frankie quickly wiped under Lola's eyes to get rid of the evidence of her tears before they departed.


	2. Ellie and Marco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie is in need of help, so she returns home to Marco. But when the time comes will she be able to tell him?
> 
> Word count: 1503

Ellie snapped the elastic band on her wrist as she glanced around.

"El! I'm so sorry, I got held up at school!" Marco gasped as he nearly collided with the park bench she was sitting on, grabbing her elbow and staring at her with wide eyes.

"It's fine, Marco."

_Lie, she'd worried herself sick when he didn't answer her call. And they'd missed their reservation._

He pecked her cheek quickly and sat on the bench beside her, "How long have you been waiting?"

"Oh, I got distracted with my article, I only got here a few minutes before you."

_Another lie. She'd been sitting here for fifty minutes, and her rubber bands had rubbed her wrist raw by the twenty minute mark._

"Well, Miss Nash, my eternally amazing and forgiving best friend, how's life been during our months of separation?" Marco asked dramatically, leaning against her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Good, boring, quiet."

_horrible, messy, she wanted to escape. She wanted it to end. She needed it to end._

He rolled his eyes and jabbed her side playfully, evoking a startled sound as she squirmed away from him, "Come on, any boys?" he teased, "I want all the gossip."

"I'm really sorry to disappoint Marco, but there's no one," she smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, "Single like a Pringle and I'm not ready to mingle."

_For a while Sean had been back, but it ended as suddenly as it began and there was nothing she could do about it. Craig had been around a little bit too, she hadn't heard from him in a while though. Was he ignoring her?_

Marco smiled, "Come on, are you hungry? I know we missed our reservations but I also know you can never turn down some hot chips from The Dot," he teased and stood up, offering her a hand.

"Starving."

_Liar, liar, pants on fire._

Ellie stood and hooked their arms together as she let him guide her through the streets of Toronto, eventually coming to The Dot, "Spin still working here?" Ellie managed to joke as they slipped inside and took a seat.

Marco snorted, "Yeah, actually, but he's out of town this week."

She raised an eyebrow, but was distracted as a waitress came over and they ordered quickly.

"It's good to see you El," he smiled once the waitress had left, "and it's good to see you so happy."

She smiled, "Good to feel happy."

_More lying, why couldn't she tell Marco what she came here to say._

"So what is this mysterious article that brought you back to my loving arms?" Marco teased.

_No. He wasn't meant to ask about the story._

"It's a piece on the education system, I'm travelling to a bunch of different schools, including Degrassi," she described.

_There was truth to her lie, a writer she knew was working on that story. Ellie had turned it down._

"That sounds interesting," Marco smiled, "So is that why you wanted to meet up with me? Get the inside goss from Degrassi's youngest, hottest teacher?"

"Like you said, it's been months since we saw each other, I was missing you."

_Four months, two weeks, five days. That was how long since she'd last made it to Toronto. That was how long since she'd last seen Marco. That was how long since she'd felt close to being happy._

"Also, I've been meaning to talk with you, but I.. uh, it should probably wait till we're back at your place." She exhaled slowly as she watched his face tighten with worry.

_No backing out now. He knew something was up, he wouldn't let her leave without telling him._

"Sure, sweets," he smiled after a moment, and she smiled weakly at the nickname.

_A real smile. That was new._

Their food arrived not long after, and Ellie barely picked at the chips as Marco spoke, trying to keep conversation light, "Did you hear about Paige's new girlfriend?"

"Ah, yeah, didn't really listen to the details though. I was working on an article at the time."

_She hadn't spoken to Paige in at least a month. She hadn't spoken to anyone except for Marco and a few other journalists in at least a month, actually._

"Well her name's Trish, she's nice enough, a little boring though," Marco joked, polishing off his burger quickly and pushing his plate away, "Is there something wrong with your chips?"

Ellie paused, "Yeah, they're a bit cold. Doesn't matter, I'll eat something at your place," she shrugged, shoving the plate away and standing quickly. She was halfway to the door when she turned back to see Marco picking up a fry and biting down.

_Please don't say anything please don't say anything._

He frowned and dropped the fry back to the plate, "Uh, yeah, cold," he nodded and followed her towards the door, "Gross. Spinner's gone for two days and the place goes to shit."

She relaxed, of course Marco wasn't going to make a scene in public. "Yeah," she laughed, "now take me to your amazing bachelor pad, Mr. Del Rossi."

It wasn't a long walk back to the apartment, and every step caused anxiety to flood through her veins.

_She'd done nothing but lie since she'd arrived, was she really gonna tell him the truth when the time came?_

"You're being quiet, you okay?" Marco observed gently, squeezing her arm and dragging her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just thinking," she mumbled softly.

Marco was quiet for a few moments before leaning over to peck her cheek gently, "I'm glad you're back in town," he told her gently.

"How much further to your place?" Ellie asked instead of responding, glancing over at him anxiously and snapping the rubber band on her wrist again.

He sighed audibly, "Two blocks. This thing you wanna talk about, you're not pregnant are you?"

_The idea of her with a child was almost comical in it's ludicrousness._

"God no, Marco! I told you there were no guys!"

_Still a lie. But the first part was true, as far as she knew she wasn't pregnant._

"Good," he said softly, squeezing her hand as they rounded the corner to his apartment building, "Here we are."

He guided her up the stairs, and Ellie's palms were growing noticeably sweaty as they approached the apartment.

_Breathe in. Out. Don't let the anxiety take hold._

Marco thankfully didn't question her once they were inside, just sat down at the bench and watched as Ellie began to move rapidly around the kitchen, "I'm sorry. I can't do this."

"Take your time," Marco said gently.

_She was almost mad about how understanding Marco was, he was making it a lot harder to come up with a lie._

"I need a drink," she muttered, and her hand had no sooner wrapped around a bottle of whiskey when Marco appeared at her side, holding her wrist.

"El.."

She bit her lip, "I tried to kill myself again!"

That got the intended response and Marco went reeling, though in the process the bottle went tumbling to the ground, "When?"

_No backing out now. She got herself into this mess. No more lies._

"Four months ago." A look something akin to anger fluttered across Marco's face before he buried the emotion, "It was Christmas, I was home for the holiday. I got as far as taking my dad's gun before I talked myself out of it."

Marco was leading her towards the couch, careful stepping around the glass that littered the ground.

"That should've been the end of it, I had convinced myself it wasn't worth it and I should have been able to move on. But I couldn't. I kept.. thinking about all the ways I could do it." Her wrist hurt, she hadn't even realised she'd been flicking her bands, "I'd wake up in the middle of the night and I'd move into the kitchen and pick up a knife and just.. look at it. Or I'd steal Craig's pills and I'd get as far as holding them all in my hand before it even dawned on me what I was doing."

Marco's frown had deepened briefly at the mention of Craig, but he quickly pulled her into his side, "Have you been seeing a therapist?" he asked cautiously.

_Lie, lie! Say yes! Tell him you're getting help so he doesn't look at you with that stupid pitiful expression!_

"No, I travel too much for work for it to work, I've tried." The pause stretched out for a moment before she swallowed, "There's no story, by the way. I needed to see you, I needed to talk to you. I'm scared Marco," her voice cracked and tears began to slip down her cheeks, soaking into his shirt.

"I know, I know," Marco whispered as he rubbed her back. His voice was tight, and it made it clear he was just as scared as she was, "We're gonna work this out, alright? Together."

_Together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk when this is set, but it's obviously some au where Marco stayed teaching at Degrassi (that does happen right? I'm not actually up to it but I saw something about him teaching)


	3. Craig and Angela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Joey regrets not realising I was bipolar sooner, he's just trying to make up for what he sees as a past mistake. You and I both know you could be gene-"  
> "What you and I both know is that you didn't get the crazy gene from mom!" Angela snapped.
> 
> Word Count: 1,300

"Ange? What are you doing here?"

Angela hadn't actually been expecting Craig home tonight, she was sure her dad had mentioned him being out of town. Yet here he was with a pretty red head on his arm, "I.." 

Craig sighed and turned to whisper something in the girl's ear, and she promptly huffed and stormed from the apartment, "She's pretty. Looks like Ellie," Angie mumbled, watching him. 

He gave her a look, not directly responding, "You ran away again," he said instead. It wasn't a question, that much was obvious. 

"Yeah.." she sighed. Clearly he'd already spoken to her father. She'd really been hoping she wouldn't have to explain herself straight away, lie and say her dad had sent her to visit, "But I have a good reason!" 

Craig gave a short laugh and began to dig through his pockets, "Yeah, I'm sure you do," he muttered, pulling out his phone. She was up in a flash, lunging forward to catch him around the wrist and look up at him with pleading eyes. 

"Don't call dad, please. Or at least give me a chance to explain myself first." 

"It takes nearly three days to get to LA from Calgary, Angie. Joey called me yesterday, he's worried sick about you," he said simply, removing her hand from his wrist gently and giving it a light squeeze, "Let me talk to him, I'll tell him you're safe. Then we can talk." 

Her shoulders slumped and she gave a small nod, moving back to the couch while he made the call. 

She caught bits and pieces of the conversation as Craig moved into the kitchen, free hand shoved in his pocket. 

"Joe, it's like one in the morning, sleep tonight and fly down tomorrow...I don't know how she travelled down here, I haven't had a chance to interrogate her yet...yeah yeah, love you too, you're such a _dad_." 

Craig set his phone down on the bench and began clanging around in the kitchen, "I'm making us hot chocolate, come in here and tell me about your trip while I do that," he called over his shoulder, and Angela awkwardly wandered into the kitchen, hoisting herself onto the bench and swinging her legs, "So, how'd you get to LA?" 

Angela sighed and recounted the story of the long two days she'd spent travelling on buses and trains to get there, eyes trained firmly on her hands clutched together in her lap, "I left dad a note, you know. I told him I'd be back in a week." 

"Ange, you had to know he'd be worried sick," Craig said gently, placing a mug down beside her and moving so he could sit on a stool by the bench. 

"He's always worried sick," she protested, "every time I act out he gets worried that I'm.." 

"Bipolar?" Craig supplied after a moment of silence, "He regrets not realising I was bipolar sooner, he's just trying to make up for what he sees as a past mistake. You and I both know you could be gene-" 

"What you and I both know is that you didn't get the crazy gene from mom!" Angela snapped, pushing to her feet to glare at him. Somewhere deep down she knew she should feel bad about the hurt expression that graced his face, but she hated having this stupid conversation over and over again, first with her dad and now Craig. 

"I'm not crazy, Angela," Craig said calmly after a moment, the use of her full name the only indication he was anything other than totally fine, "I've gotten my act together." 

Angela felt terrible even as the laughter bubbled up in her chest, "You came home at 2am smelling like alcohol and cigarettes, with a girl who looks like your quasi-girlfriend hanging off your arm. That doesn't sound like someone who's got his shit together." 

This time she really did seem to strike a nerve, as Craig stood to dump her untouched hot chocolate down the drain and spoke without looking at her, "I'll take the couch, you can have my bed. I'll see you in the morning." 

Angela hesitated, the guilt starting to build up in her chest as her flash of anger began to subside. She opened her mouth to say something before shaking her head and sliding off the bench, padding soundlessly into the bedroom and shutting the door firmly behind her. 

She dug through Craig's drawers for something to wear, shrugging one of his t-shirts on before flopping onto the bed and curling up tightly. Despite all odds she eventually drifted into uneasy sleep, her tears drying on her cheeks. 

When she woke the next morning - or later that morning, considering what time she'd gone to bed - the smell of pancakes wafted through the apartment. She was hesitant to leave the safe environment of the bedroom, but eventually she did, moving out into the living room to find Craig standing in the kitchen. The phone was pressed to his ear as he flipped a pancake, and when he turned and spotted her she waved silently. 

"Yeah, hey, El. Ange is up so I'm gonna have to go, I'll talk to you later, bye," he hung up the phone quickly and set it down as she moved over to the bench, "Morning." 

"How's Ellie?" 

He raised an eyebrow and turned back to the pancakes, "Good, she's in Australia at the moment though, so it's about one in the morning for her. She couldn't sleep." 

"That's one hell of a bill," Angela muttered as she sat down, watching him for a moment and sighing, "I was out of line last night. I was tired and angry and I took it out on you when I know you're just trying to help." 

Humour was evident in his voice when he spoke, though he didn't look at her, "I don't know, 'quasi-girlfriend' is probably the best way I've ever heard anyone describe what me and Ellie have." 

She huffed, "I'm trying to apologise, Craig," she complained, propping her chin up on her elbows. 

"You don't have to apologise, Angie, you lashed out, we all do it." 

She bit her tongue on the nasty response that threatened to slip out, instead giving him a watery smile, "What do you remember about mom?" 

"Bits and pieces, I'm lucky that I was older when she died," Craig said simply, pushing a plate of pancakes towards her and sitting down, "I remember her favourite colour." 

"Yellow," Angela interrupted with a smile. 

"Yeah, it was. It reminded her of happiness," Craig said softly, "she painted my bedroom yellow. She would say it was to 'let the good vibes in'." 

Angela smiled and dug into her pancakes, gesturing for Craig to keep talking. 

"You know, my memories of mom.. they're really extreme. Like, I remember how happy she could be. But I have faint memories of her locking herself in her room and refusing to come out. I.. I know it's hard to think, but she could have been bipolar, Ange." 

"I always thought your dad was.." 

"He wasn't, I know that much," Craig shook his head, "He was royally messed up, and an abusive asshole, but I don't think he was bipolar." 

Angela nodded her head slowly, considering for a moment before standing and moving around the table to wrap her arms around him tightly, "I love you." 

Craig smiled and hugged her back, "I love you too, Angie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all this came out of nowhere
> 
> Angie's probably about 17 in this


	4. Craig and Ellie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snippets of Craig and Ellie's odd and often difficult relationship. Not chronological order.
> 
> Words: 1,400

Ellie's hands shook as she tried to get the key into the lock, and eventually a hand wrapped around hers, taking the keys and opening the front door. She blinked, and her eyes slid slowly up until she was staring up at Craig. And of course he was here right now, because he always managed to show up at the lowest points of her life. She briefly considered playing sober, but she probably reeked of alcohol anyway.

"Heyy, Craig," she smiled too widely, slouching against him and putting a hand on his chest lightly, "Di'nt know you were in town." 

"Just on my way through, I'm crashing on Spin's couch," Craig grunted, wrapping an arm around her waist to guide her gently inside the apartment. His hand was warm against the slither of skin where her shirt rode up, and she fluttered her eyelashes, "Why were you drinking?" 

"Can't I just wanna have fun?" she hissed, pulling herself out of his arms and stumbling towards her bedroom. She was faintly aware of the sound of his footsteps behind her, but she didn't have it in herself to care about modesty as she began to strip out of her clothes, down to her underwear by the time she bumped against the bed and fell onto it. 

As if on cue Craig appeared beside her, helping her into a sitting position so he could pull a t-shirt that was definitely too big to actually belong to her over her head, "Ellie, you and alcohol have never mixed well, and you know it." 

She huffed, "I got stood up, okay? Happy now? Happy to know there's a pathetic reason I decided to drink, just like always?" she was glaring up at him, fists clenching and unclenching mechanically by her sides. One of his hands folded over hers and she stilled, immediately clamming up. 

"He's an idiot, who would stand you up?" he mumbled, tucking a chunk of her behind her ear. 

"She, she's an idiot," she corrected, ripping her hand away from him and crossing her arms over her chest and observing his reaction, "don't worry, I still like dick," she muttered, lying down and curling onto her side facing him. 

He laughed lightly, "Get some sleep, we can talk about the drinking more in the morning." 

"I didn't say you could stay here," she protested with a pout. 

"I'm not leaving you alone, you're probably gonna be sick," he pointed out, moving to stand before she grabbed his wrist and pulled him down, kissing him roughly. 

"Fuck you," she muttered as she pulled away, rolling away from him. 

He gave a half-hearted laugh as he left the room. 

* * *

Craig rapped his knuckles against Ellie's apartment door.

Murmuring and shuffling could be heard inside for a few moments, and it seemed to take the girl forever to answer the door. When it swung open Ellie was smiling widely, though the expression slipped at the sight of him, opening her mouth as he took in her rumpled appearance. She didn't get a chance to speak though, as a voice Craig instantly recognised called out from inside. 

"El? Who is it?" 

She didn't respond, just stepped out of the apartment and shut the door behind her, "I didn't know you were coming to town, why didn't you tell me?" 

He shrugged, leaning against the wall, "I wanted to surprise you, but you and Sean are busy so.." 

"Don't leave on his account," Ellie interrupted, glancing up at Craig tentatively. The blow out that had occurred last time they'd seen each other was still fresh on his mind, and clearly she'd been thinking about it as well, "Three's company, right?" 

"That's not how the saying goes, Ellie," he chuckled weakly and shook his head, "I don't want to be your awkward third wheel, I'll go." 

Ellie caught his arm as he pushed off the wall, holding him back from leaving just yet, "Are you mad at me?" 

"What?" he blinked. 

"For the way I treated you last time we saw each other," she said softly, dropping her hand from his arm so she could snap the band on her wrist, "I didn't mean to start an argument. I was stressed about a bunch of things." 

"Your dad. Paige told me." 

"Since when do you talk to Paige?" Ellie snorted, looking comfortable for the first time in their conversation. Teasing was familiar territory. 

"We got back in touch at Marco's birthday party," he shrugged, "Anyway, I am sorry about him. I.. I know what it's like to lose a dad, ya know. So no, I'm not mad." 

"Good," she said softly, taking his hand and squeezing it. 

He squeezed back before kissing her temple and stepping away, "I really should get going." 

He turned away and she moved back inside, and he pretended not to hear her say 'don't worry, it was no one' as he walked away. 

* * *

"You haven't been taking your meds."

It wasn't a pleasant way to greet Craig home, but Ellie didn't really care about that at the moment. What she cared about was finding out why he hadn't been taking them. 

"I've been writing," he said, as if that were a proper answer. The worst part was that she knew exactly what he meant by it, in his own odd way. He'd often complained to her about how fuzzy his brain felt when he was on the meds, and how hard it made it for him to write music. 

"Craig, you can't put your music above your health," she said gently, placing the unopened pill bottle on the bench and moving forward to take his hand gently, "You've been really down lately, I'm worried you're having a depressive episode." 

"Jesus, El, I think I'd know if I was having an episode!" he snapped, stepping back and tugging a hand through his hair, "Why is it always about my bipolar with you? Why can't we just have a conversation about something normal?" 

Ellie's demeanour shifted quickly as she stepped back and bumped against the bench, clearly growing angry herself, "Because you and I, we don't do normal! We don't do simple! Our entire relationship revolves around a hideous pattern of one of us messing up and running to the other!" she responded, her voice rising with each word until she was sure his neighbours must be able to hear. Before Craig had a chance to counter she continued, stepping forward to jab her finger against his chest, "Every time I hurt myself, I run to you! Every time you screw something up, you come to me! And every god damn time Sean fucks me over I come crying to you as if you haven't hurt me worse a hundred times!" 

Craig had turned ashen, and Ellie stared up at him. She hadn't been expecting her own outburst, and her mouth worked as she tried to think of what to say next. 

"You know I don't mean to.." 

"Yeah, I know. You don't mean to hurt me, you never do. But that's what we do Craig, we worry about each other and then turn around and hurt each other. That's us," she muttered, turning around and picking up the pill bottle, "Take your meds," she muttered as she pressed it into his hand and pushed past him. 

"Where're you going?" he asked after her, staring at the back of her head. 

"Out." She didn't even turn around, just opened the door and walked out. 

She wished she was surprised when he didn't follow her. 

* * *

Ellie was writing on the couch when Craig got home, and she gave a small wave.

"Hey," she called as he wandered over to peak over her shoulder, tilting her head to kiss his jaw, "How's Ash doing?" 

"She's good, whatcha working on?" he inquired, and Ellie's cheeks immediately flushed a bright red, which only served to pique his interest. 

"A list. Of rules. For us." She sat up as she answered, and he took the opportunity to sit where her legs had been and pull her into his lap. 

"We need rules?" he raised an eyebrow, propping his chin on her shoulder and scanning the list, "I'm pretty sure at least three of these rules are just 'don't get jealous'." 

She laughed and leaned back, letting him wrap his arms around her waist, "I wanted to be thorough." 

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her cheek, "In other words, you got really bored cause you don't have a story to work on at the moment?" 

"You know me so well," she pretended to swoon, chucking her notebook aside and twisting in his lap to straddle his hips and kiss him. 

He smiled against her lips, any rules forgotten as he pulled her closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I def like Some of these better than others.


	5. Craig, Maya, and Ellie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically I just find it really interesting that Maya's gonna be travelling with Craig
> 
> Word count: 1300

"Okay, I filled your prescription, I still don't understand how you went through them so qui-, oh."

There was a girl on the couch, her head pillowed on Craig's lap. He was fiddling with the straight blonde hair that fanned out across his legs as she slept fitfully, and he looked up as Ellie entered. 

"El.." Craig looked up at her with wide eyes, "I know what you think this is, but it's not." 

She rolled her eyes and chucked the orange pill bottle at him, watching as he reached up to catch it, "How long's she been out?" she inquired simply, crouching down to inspect the blonde. 

"I don't know, she hasn't taken anything though," he clarified quickly, seeming to realise what she was thinking, "I came out of the shower to find her with my meds, I knocked them out of her hand and she broke down, passed out after a while. She's got a history." 

Ellie nodded her head slowly, "This is Maya, right? The girl who's opening for you guys?" she didn't really need an answer, but she appreciated his soft affirmation, "Can you carry her to the bed?" 

Craig slid slowly out from underneath her and stood, stretching his arms over his head before leaning down to pick Maya up. Ellie watched her head loll against Craig's neck as he moved towards the bed, and she took the opportunity to move to the couch while she waited for him to return. 

"I didn't get a chance to thank you," Craig said softly as he sat down beside her, absently hooking his arm around her waist and tugging her against him, "For filling my prescription, I'm not sure when I would have had a chance to do it myself." 

"Hey, you know me. You call and I come running," it was meant to sound teasing, but he tensed underneath her, "That was a joke, Craig," she muttered, turning her face into his neck. 

"I've caused you a lot of hurt over the years," he mumbled in turn into her hair. She snorted but didn't feel the need to dignify that with a response. 

Something occurred to her and she pulled away to look up at him, "What was she doing in your room in the first place, Craig?" there was no jealousy or judgement in her tone, just curiosity. 

He was quiet for a moment, "I make bad decisions sometimes, okay?" he sighed, tilting his head away from her. 

She huffed and drove her elbow into his side, which caused a wince to flutter across his face, "She's still a kid! She's like a decade younger than you, Angie's age!" 

"It was a spur of the moment thing, after it happened I kind of.. freaked, told her to leave and went to have a shower." 

Ellie winced and rubbed her face, "This wasn't your fault, you know? You're the one who stopped her from actually hurting herself." 

"I'm the one who made her want to hurt herself in the first place!" he snapped before pausing to take a few shaky breaths, though they didn't seem to calm him down any, "It's my fault. Just like it was my fault when you tried to fucking drown yourself." 

Ellie recoiled and slipped out of his arms, thankful that he didn't try to stop her, "I had a lot of stuff going on, not just you. I'm sure she does too. Besides, that was a long time ago." 

"Marco told me you haven't been dealing well," he said softly as he watched her stand with big, sad eyes, and she inwardly cursed the urge to lean forward and kiss away the pain in his expression. Instead she focused on his words. 

She cursed under her breath and hesitated before sitting down on the floor, back against the couch, "How much did he tell you?" 

"He told me you took your dad's gun out at Christmas," he sighed, "And he told me that you've done a few other things like that. Apparently you once stole my meds while I was asleep?" 

She winced and turned to look at the girl sleeping in Craig's bed, "Maybe you have a type, and it was more than once." 

He sighed and shifted so he could twist his fingers through her hair calmingly, delicate braids forming beneath his hands, "You're getting help now, right?" 

"Yeah, I'm seeing a therapist. That's why I moved back to Toronto, that and Marco wanted to keep an eye on me." 

They didn't speak for a while after that, Ellie simply relaxing against the couch as Craig continued to work his way through her knotted red curls. 

"I miss you so much when you're gone," she whispered softly, turning her head so his fingers came loose from her hair and she could rest her cheek against his knee, "I know I shouldn't, we're so damn bad for each other." There was a morbid sort of humour in her voice, and her lip quirked up at the corner. 

"I miss you too, you know that right?" he responded, not quite able to hide his own smile as he leaned over to pick her up. The action elicited a bubbling laugh from her as he placed her in his lap with his hands on her hips, brushing her hair aside to press a kiss to her neck. 

It was comfortable, something they'd done a million times, and she gave a small smile and tilted her head back. 

"Craig," she whispered, stilling suddenly. He pulled away quickly, clearly thinking he'd done something wrong, but she just shook her head and jerked it towards Maya, who was sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed. 

"You have a girlfriend. Is that why you freaked out?" She was watching them both with a frown, and Ellie couldn't help but feel sorry for the young girl. Then she comprehended her words and paled. 

"Oh, sweetie, no!" Ellie said quickly, pushing herself out of Craig's lap and taking a step towards the bed, "Craig's allowed to sleep with whoever he likes and he knows it." As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them, realising how odd that must sound. Though, to be fair, their relationship was pretty damn odd no matter how you put it. 

"So.. you're not his girlfriend?" Maya asked in a soft voice. 

"That's a surprisingly difficult question to answer," Ellie smiled weakly, "I'm Ellie, Ellie Nash. Mind if I sit?" 

She waited until the girl nodded before sitting down on the comfortable mattress, "Maya Matlin. Though I guess you know that?" The uncertainty in the girl's body language made Ellie want to reach out and hold her tight, but Maya's gaze was focused behind her, "Craig? Where are you going?" 

Ellie's gaze shifted up and she spotted Craig standing with his hand on the doorknob, "You asshole!" she snapped, though she lowered her voice when she noticed Maya had flinched, "Get back here, don't be a shit-head." 

He hesitated before moving back over to the bed, and Ellie resisted the urge to reach out and take his hand. Instead she turned her attention to Maya, "I know this is going to be tough, but you're gonna need to talk about the problems you're having." 

"I'm not-I'm better," Maya objected, and Ellie just smiled calmly. 

"I've been in your position too many times to count," she whispered, "saying you're fine doesn't make it true." 

Maya's shoulders slumped and she nodded, leaning into Craig's touch as he placed a hand on her shoulder, "Fine, okay, let's talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, like, I highkey believe Maya would relapse at some point, and I thought rejection would be a bit of a trigger to her (I haven't seen the backhalf of season 12 but my understanding is she kind of feels like Cam killing himself was him rejecting her? Okay that makes it sound super superficial and shitty but like, y'all get it)
> 
> Anyway, I've written a story where Lola and Spinner meet and I'm so hyped to post it


	6. Craig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black.
> 
> Everywhere he turned it was all he saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for allusions to suicide

Black.

Everywhere he turned it was all he saw. The people wore black, and they held black umbrellas, and even the clouds seemed to have darkened. It was as if even the sky knew that they were in mourning. 

His eyes dragged back up to the black umbrellas around him (anything was better than looking at _her_ , being lowered into the ground) before he glanced at his own umbrella, a bright pink abomination she'd bought him years ago. 

Clearly he hadn't gotten the memo. 

Laughter threatened to bubble up within him, and he clamped his mouth firmly shut. He could imagine what she'd have to say right now, right down to her mocking tone ("Really? I died and _this_ is how you're choosing to pay your respects to me? You may as well have worn your goddamn leather jacket!"). 

She'd loved black, but he hated it, especially in times of mourning like this. It was too cliche, too somber, too goddamn depressing. The last thing they needed right now was depressing. He hadn't planned on wearing his stupid black suit at all, their friends ( _his_ friends, it wasn't like she was coming back to claim them) had had to force him into it, and even then he'd hollered and kicked up a fuss. 

A hand pressed against his shoulder, and he turned his head slightly to look at the girl it belonged to. The girl with the wavy hair and the eyes so dark they were almost black. Once upon a time he'd loved her, had gone so far as to imagine a future with her, but his heart was fixated on a different girl now, so he shrugged away the delicate touch. 

Of course, the girl he loved was being lowered into the ground before his very eyes. 

Red. 

He caught a flash of the colour out of the corner of his eye and spun his head, and he saw a little girl, red balloon in one pudgy hand while the other gripped tight to her mother's shirt. His eyes fixated on the balloon. It bobbed up and down, a red dot against the grey sky (he hated the colour. Hated the way it had seeped out of her and into the tiles. Hated the way it had stained his jeans as he'd knelt with her, screaming for help and fumbling for his phone. Hated the way it wouldn't wash out from his clothes or his memory no matter how hard he scrubbed). 

The mother was crying, hunched over a grave and sobbing mercilessly. He watched that too, watched the way her shoulders heaved as she begged god for one more day with the person she'd lost (lord only knew what he'd give to have one more day), but crying was futile. The person the woman wept for was gone, nothing but a tombstone left to remind the world that one upon a time there'd been a person that walked this earth, if only briefly. 

He tore his eyes away from the private moment as movement erupted around him, and he suddenly became aware of the fact that the funeral was over. A hand touched his shoulder, not the same hand as before. This one was broader, and the voice that accompanied was kind as he was coaxed to stand up. 

Brown. 

The colour sloshed beneath their feet as they stumbled along, staining the fake leather of his shoes (she'd loved weather like this. She would tug on her bright yellow rain boots and hop from puddle to puddle. She'd kick water at him and stain his clothes brown with the stuff). He kept his eyes trained down, vaguely aware of the arm around him that kept him from stumbling face first into the mud. 

He crawled into the backseat of the car with a few of his fellow former classmates, curling against the door and shutting his eyes tight. His whole body ached with the loss, he just wanted to sleep (maybe she'd been smart to get out. To go to sleep and never wake up. No one could hurt you that way). 

Before he even had the chance to drift, however, a hand shook his shoulder, and he blinked his eyes open cautiously. 

White. 

That was the colour of the pills that were pressed into his hand, along with a plastic bottle. The girl who handed them to him watched him carefully to make sure he took them, though he didn't know why she cared. They'd spoken maybe once the entire time they'd been classmates ( _she_ used to take it upon herself to make sure he took his meds. Maybe she'd passed on the message in the note she'd left. He hadn't read it). He took a swig of water and swallowed the pills before turning away, unable to shut his eyes again. 

Instead he watched the hills roll past, eventually migrating into the streets of the city (he'd thought she'd loved this city. If she'd loved it why would she leave it behind?). The others in the car slowly began to migrate into conversation, mostly simple memories they shared of her. None of them ere important memories though, no one talked about the days where they'd come home and find her on their couch, having apparently picked the lock, or the times when she wouldn't pick up the phone for a week because she'd been working on some piece she simply couldn't put down, or the times where they'd notice a new scar on her wrist and she'd vehemently deny the fact. 

No one talked about the things that had really made her _her_. 

He shut his eyes, but all he saw was her. All he saw was black painted nails, chewed talons she would scrape down his back; he saw red hair, locks he loved to tangle his hands into; he saw brown eyes, alight with excitement as she spoke of her latest story; and he saw white skin like porcelain, and all he could remember was how it had been cold to the touch by the time he'd found her. 

If she'd loved him, why had she left him alone in this sprawling city they called life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself sad writing this

**Author's Note:**

> I'm almost certain Frankie's gonna find out about Miles being the father during season 4, and I'm really interested in seeing her reaction.
> 
> Next chapter's gonna be very different, namely it's gonna be about two of my faves from the OG (ignoring the fact that both were Actually not introduced till season 2)


End file.
